


More Than Nineteen Reasons

by mk_malfoy



Series: Nineteen Reasons Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/mk_malfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Side stories to Nineteen Reasons written by a host of Harry and Draco’s family and friends that will be revealed as each chapter is posted. Each chapter will be a separate story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Nineteen Reasons

Title: More than Nineteen Reasons  
Author: MK Malfoy  
Characters: Harry, Draco, Albus Severus, Scorpius, Ginny, Astoria, Lucius, Narcissa, etc.  
Rating: R  
Words: 2,750 (this chapter)  
Summary: Side stories to Nineteen Reasons written by a host of Harry and Draco’s family and friends that will be revealed as each chapter is posted. Each chapter will be a separate story.  
Warnings: I am sure there will be a rather large dose of angst within, and there might be a few chapters from Harry’s POV, as well as Scorpius’s and Albus’s, that have sexual content, but most of the chapters should be rather tame. Note that I said should. I make no promises, so that is why the fic overall is rated R. I have no idea how many chapters (stories) this will be, but as they are each one-shots, that shouldn’t matter.  
Disclaimer: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!  
A/N: Thanks to Meglw0228 for the ideas for this first side story. Half of it, I had already planned to do, but the other half… well the idea seemed too intriguing not to do it. If you have not read Nineteen Reasons, you'll not understand everything that I've written about in this set of stories.

 

When I wrote Nineteen Reasons, there were a few stipulations that my father-in-law gave me: There were certain events he never wanted anyone other than our immediate family to know, and he said that if anyone wrote about them, it would be him. I understood and assured him that anything he said was off-limits would not be mentioned. 

Nevertheless, we all knew that these events needed to be documented, because one day Harry, my sister and brother, Albus, and I... none of us will be here, but we would like our grandchildren and children to know these stories. Thus, we decided to write an additional book that is only meant for Harry, Teddy, Albus, my brother, sister, and all of our children. It will no longer exist when none of us are alive. Each chapter will be a different story from one of us. We hope you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it.

 

The Day I Met the Real Harry by Scorpius Malfoy-Potter

 

To begin this second book, I’ll begin where I left off in the first book: the story of my essay that I wrote about my father.

What no one other than Teddy, Harry, Albus, and my children will ever know is that my father did know about me writing the essay about him. It was only a few weeks after he went into hospital for the last time that he told me, and shocked would not even come close to describing how I felt. The way he told me will forever remain burned into my mind, and I pray to everything possible that I never ever forget.

He was having difficulty breathing and I was sitting on the bed, holding him (let me tell you that it is every bit as precious to do that with a parent as it is to hold your firstborn child in your arms; at least it was to me. As sad as it was, and it was unbearably sad, I wouldn’t trade that memory for anything). My father looked into my eyes and told me he was proud of me and that he needed to tell me something. Of course, I thought he was about to tell me something profound, and… well, he did: he said that my teacher, Mr. Lewis, had Flooed him a few days after I turned in my essay and told him about what I had done. So all those years, he knew and didn’t say anything. After he told me, we talked for hours about so many things: about the day we had gone to Surrey to find the information Harry had written me about, about life, about death, about family, about love, about honor, and about happiness. 

My father wanted me to be happy. He knew that his death was going to upset me, and that worried him. He asked me to please let him go when it was time, and to allow Albus to comfort me. He told me it was very important to him that we all move on and continue living as we had been. He also asked that Albus and I make sure that Harry not be alone after he died: he was so very concerned about Harry, and he even cried when talking about leaving him. My father rarely cried that last year — he had long since accepted his fate, and he didn’t want to upset anyone. Nevertheless, Harry was my father’s everything, and the thought of making him sad was almost too much for my father. I think Harry is why my father lived as long as he did — he didn’t want to leave Harry alone. I can understand: the thought of leaving Albus makes me so very sad.

The last thing my father told me that day was that I should have written about Harry, and he told me to never forget what I had found out that overcast afternoon — that it was important for me to remember what all Harry had gone through.

The thing is, I could never forget what I found out that afternoon even if I wanted to: everything I learned that day hurt me. I didn’t know little kids had to face such trials. I grew up sheltered and loved, safe and secure. Harry didn’t. He grew up unloved and was about as insecure as a child could be. 

As sad as it is to recall that day, I think it is vastly important to write about it for my two wonderful children. I know their grandfather is not going to be overly pleased that I am writing this, but he’ll get over it, or he won’t. Either way, I am going to share with you that day so long ago when I was introduced to someone who was going to have an immense impact on my life in little more than a year. Harry Potter, until that day, had been this larger-than-life hero who I admired, but that day he turned into a human whose life suddenly mattered a lot more to me.

I can still remember the sweet smell of the Black Consorts as Father and I Apparated into a small alley in Surrey. It was a Sunday spring afternoon, and the birds were out in force twittering and calling to their mates. A few families were out in their yards, and there was a rather large man standing outside of his conservatory, talking to his wife, who was inside. He stopped and looked at me with a rather odd expression, and I remember wondering what he and his wife were talking about. I’ve always been fascinated with other families. As I was growing up, Father never missed an opportunity to share with me my responsibilities, and as we had a rather obscene amount of money, I learned from him and Mum at an early age that I needed to give back. I remember asking my father if he thought those people were rich. He looked at me and told me that it didn’t matter. I was taken aback with his matter-of-fact response, but now I understand. I also now know that that man was Harry’s uncle. It is a good thing I have never met him; I don’t like to loathe people, but him, I think there is no way I could like him even a little bit.

Father spoke perhaps five words as we walked toward the dilapidated-looking playpark, but as we neared the slide, his face changed and he grinned: It was the first time he had smiled all day. He looked at me, sighed, then nodded. As excited as I was — I was your typical nine-year-old boy who was about to find out information about his hero — I knew that my father didn’t want to be there and I knew that he was apprehensive. I hadn’t a clue as to why. Of course, now, twenty years later, his reactions that day seem perfectly normal. I was taking him back to a place in his life where he had been very unhappy, and then very much in love and blissfully happy. To be brought back to such a place must have been excruciating for my father, and it would have been easy for him to deny me the opportunity to learn more about Harry, yet he didn’t. He took me there and allowed me to spend five hours scouring through copious amounts of information. I love my father for everything that he was, but that he would do such a thing for his son… words aren’t adequate.

Most everything I found that day was about Harry’s fight with Voldemort. There was limited personal information about him or his family and friends. He wrote much of it when he was near the age I was when I discovered all of this about Harry. All these years later, I still find it difficult to think that someone that young had to deal with so much. At the age of eleven, I was so very naïve and spoiled: I wouldn’t have survived what Harry had to. 

Father and I sat on a blanket and had tea and scones as we perused the information. I remember being amazed, especially when I found out that Harry, at the age of eleven, had to face Voldemort by himself. The part of that parchment that got to me the most was when Harry wrote that he had to try really hard not to cry when Voldemort came at him and tried to choke him. But there were so many worse things that he had to go through, and it boggles my mind to think about how many times he almost died. He was a mere child and he almost died at the hands of an adult who wanted revenge on him? It seems impossible that any adult could think revenge on an innocent child would get them anywhere.

As disturbing as everything I learned that day was, there is one bit of information that haunts me more than any other, and I have only mentioned it to Albus. I do not want to write about it here, but I really do think it is only fair that I do. This story goes to the heart of who Harry Potter is and what he has been through. I am going to write it verbatim, the same as he had it on that thin piece of parchment that had dirt and water stains marring the surface:

 

For the first time since fourth year, I feel completely alone. Ron’s not here and Hermione is missing him. She and I went to Godric’s Hollow last night and it was the hardest thing I have ever done. I cried. Hermione didn’t say anything, she just let me get it out. Then we went to the house my parents and I were living in when my mum and dad were murdered: I wanted so badly to go in, and I would have if not for us seeing Bathilda Bagshot… er well, it wasn’t her, but we thought it was. Turns out it was Nagini, and he bit me and almost killed me. Perhaps it would have been better had I died. 

No! I know that it wouldn’t have been better had I died. It’s just frustrating. I know that everything is moving toward this big war, and I haven’t any idea what I’m expected to do. Well, yes, I know what I am expected to do, but HOW is what I want to know, especially now that I no longer have my wand. How am I supposed to do anything without my wand? Now I wish I had paid more attention to what Snape said: he was always on us last year about doing wandless magic. I paid him little attention, and now I am going to be the worse for that. Git or not, that was a wise bit of advice, and I completely disregarded it. If I get out of this alive, I owe Snape an apology, even though he did kill Dumbledore and I loathe him for that.

She’s crying again. What am I supposed to do? Hermione isn’t like Ginny. She’s sensitive. I need to tell her it’s okay, but I can’t, because it isn’t okay and I am not daft enough to believe that such words of empty comfort will help. 

I wonder if my father was afraid when he knew he was about to die? Dumbledore told me that my father was found with a smile on his face. Did he die with his head held high? I’d be naïve to think he did. He must have been scared. But he stood his ground and tried to prevent me and my mother’s deaths. I need to prevent Hermione’s death. What if anything happens to her? I couldn’t live with myself if she died because she came on this trek with me.

I’m scared. Everyone is counting on me and I am scared. What if I fail? What if Voldemort wins and kills me? What will happen to everyone? 

I don’t know what in the hell I am doing. Ron was right about that. I am seventeen years old; I have no idea how to go about killing Voldemort. I am a wizard, yet I haven’t the slightest idea how to complete my task. I need help. I need someone to lead me where I need to go. I need someone to guide me. I can’t do this alone.

 

Isn’t that just the saddest thing you’ve ever read? I will tell you that I have tears rolling down my face as I am writing this. Knowing Harry as I do now, it is heartbreaking to think that he was scared and felt so alone. He is someone who would do anything for anyone, and to know that he felt as if he had no one back then is so sad. 

It is clear that Harry was terrified of what was to come. How ever did he get through that time? I’ve since learned that he did have some help as he had asked for, and I now know that his best friend, Ron Weasley, did return, and in fact saved Harry. 

Ron remains one of Harry’s closest friends, and ever since I was twelve, when my father and Harry bonded, Ron has brought me books each time he visits: he is one of the main reasons I am a writer today. When I was ready to give up, he sat me down and told me that I was good at what I did and that I needed to keep trying. And do you know that when I went public with my homosexuality that it was Ron who stood beside me? He said that it was no one’s business who I loved. I was happy that he did this, but I had no idea that it was so important what he said. My father actually cried when Ron said those words. I didn’t understand at the time, but now I know that Ron didn’t have an easy time of it when he found out that my father and Harry were together. But, he eventually accepted it. 

Albus and I are thinking about adopting another infant boy. If we do, we are going to name him Ronald Draco. My dad would completely not like it that we named a child after him, but he has no say in it. I am thinking Ron will be chuffed.

Regarding that day, there is only one other bit of information I want to mention: There were several parchments that my father and I went through, but there was one item that my father refused to let me see. I remember being super angry with him, but he didn’t care. Now I know that the item was a picture that someone had taken of the Great Hall the night after the Battle of Hogwarts. In it, there were rows and rows of dead bodies, and in the corner, my father, grandfather, and grandmother huddled next to one another. Harry is seated in the foreground, his head hung, and Headmistress McGonagall had her arm around him trying to comfort him. According to Father, a student gave it to him a few years after the battle, when he had gone to give a speech about Severus Snape. Father had been so upset to see it and had almost thrown it away, but he hadn’t, and instead had given it to Harry as they had shaken hands. Father asked that I not reveal this in the book, however. He said it had been one of those moments that deserves to be frozen in time. Thus, no one but Teddy, me, Albus, and our children will ever know about this, but that is how it should be. My father and Harry began a friendship that day that blossomed into the greatest love I have ever known. 

Not too long before my father slipped into unconsciousness for the final time, he told me that if anything ever happened to Harry, I was to retrieve the information and move it to somewhere else safe. He told me that it was for Albus and me, and that after both he and Harry died, we would have access to it. I was speechless when he told me. When I told Albus about it, we agreed that what Harry buried when he was twenty will never be moved. That place is special to my father and Albus’s father, so eyes will never again see those parchments or that picture. 

Albus and I don’t need to see to know, and no one else needs to know.

Title: More than Nineteen Reasons 2  
Author: MK Malfoy  
Characters: Harry, Draco, Albus Severus, Scorpius, Ginny, Astoria, Lucius, Narcissa, etc.  
Rating: R  
Words: 3,465 (this chapter)  
Summary: Side stories to Nineteen Reasons written by a host of Harry and Draco’s family and friends that will be revealed as each chapter is posted. Each chapter will be a separate story.  
Warnings: I am sure there will be a rather large dose of angst within, and there might be a few chapters from Harry’s POV, as well as Scorpius’s and Albus’s, that have sexual content, but most of the chapters should be rather tame. Note that I said should. I make no promises, so that is why the fic overall is rated R. I have no idea how many chapters (stories) this will be, but as they are each one-shots, that shouldn’t matter.  
Disclaimer: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

Fairy Tales, Love, and Perfection by Harry Malfoy-Potter

Fairy tales are farcical stories that often have convoluted morality lessons buried within. This is not the way I think now, but it is what I thought when I was a small child. As such, when I was younger, they never were a genre of story I preferred to read. My tastes leaned toward the more realistic-non-fictional types of stories. I liked fact-based material. Then, when I began attending Hogwarts, and again, when Draco Malfoy became an important part of my life, fairy tales seemed to take on a new meaning, and now, I think of them fondly. How could I not? Hogwarts and Draco Malfoy were my fairytales come to life.

As a young child, I craved attention. My relatives mistreated me, giving me only the minimum of what I needed to survive. I longed for an escape, and spent hours in my cupboard dreaming of far-away places and someone who would love me for me. Those days, so long ago, seemed so hopeless to a five-year-old, and I never thought that I would amount to anything; my uncle and aunt told me daily how completely useless I was, so why would I think any differently? How could I have known that those dreams would one day come true? Hogwarts was that far-away place, and Draco Malfoy was that someone who would love me for me. 

My lesson? Never give up.

Do not ever let anyone tell you that dreams do not come true. They do, and if you have one, believe in it and it might very well see the light of day. Of course, it might not come true, and we all face disappointment at some point in our lives, but sometimes what we want does come true. What I am trying to say is: do not give up just because the task seems too daunting, or because someone tells you that your dream is unrealistic. 

The worst failures are the attempts we never take because of fear.

Draco Malfoy was an answer to a young boy’s fairy tale wish. He taught me how to dream, how to hope, and how to live. Always live in the moment, he would tell me. You can dream for the future, hope for good things, but always live for the moment. This was one of the things we talked about often. It was important for him and me to live in the moment, whilst dreaming of a bright future together. According to his parents, this philosophy wasn’t merely a result of his accident; they told me that this is how he had always tried to live his life.

This chapter is for my two grandchildren, Bella and Severus, and I want you to pay close attention because there are two more lessons within. I hope you heeded my message about dreams and fairy tales. Next, I am going to tell you a bit more about your grandfather Draco, then I am going to write about a lesson I want the both of you to never forget. Be sure and pay attention!

The two of you have asked me, on many occasions, to tell you about your grandfather Draco and how he was before he became weak and ill and, as you know, I have never been one to speak about how it was in those early days. The two of you probably thought I was sad and didn’t want to think about how normal we had been before his illness progressed. You would not be entirely mistaken in your assumption, but there is more to it. Let me try to explain by telling you a story.

It was 2001, in the early days of our relationship. We were walking along the Thames when your grandfather asked me a question. He asked me if I could do one thing, what would it be? Well, there was no hesitation on my part: I said that I’d want to have a conversation with my parents. He nodded his head and said he thought I’d say that. So then I asked him the same question, wondering what his answer would be. Draco and I were very much alike, yet we were so vastly different. There was no telling what his reply would be. He didn’t hesitate and said that he would want my parents and me to have a conversation. 

I was rendered speechless.

As I said, this was early in our relationship. We were both young, enjoying being in love, and loving each other, but there is no doubt that neither of us had realized how very important we were to the other. We often took the other for granted. But, when your grandfather Draco said those words to me that day, everything for me changed. From that day forward, my number one goal in life was to please Draco. I wanted to do this because he wanted to please me. He wanted me to be happy. This was how Draco was on that day over twenty years ago, and that was how he was on the day he died. So for me, in that respect, there was no change. There were no physical barriers to that sort of love and adventure. Yes, Draco and I once did extraordinary things when he was able, and then one day we were vastly limited and could no longer do those things, but that didn’t matter to either of us because our love was centered on an emotional attachment that had nothing to do with physicality.

Yes, I am aware that your questions regarding your grandfather will probably never be answered to your liking, at least not by me. Perhaps it is more than a little selfish of me, but I want to keep part of your grandfather just for me. What you need to know is that he loved life every day, even when he could barely breathe. 

Whilst I am writing about this difficult subject, I will continue on for a bit more, because your parents think it might be prudent to share with their children a bit about Draco’s death, and they asked me to be the one to talk about it. I didn’t want to, but then Teddy told me that he would have loved it had he known a bit about his parents’ deaths. Well, after that, there was no way I could refuse what my children asked. 

Your grandfather Draco died at 2:36 pm on 23 February 2039. He was fifty-eight years old — much too young to die, but infinitely too tired and weak to continue living. I miss him more and more with each passing day. He left such a vast empty space in my life when he slipped away that sunny, cold afternoon, but as the life left him, it was as if a peace settled over the room. I’ll never forget that feeling. I wonder if he felt the peace settling over him as he died. I hope so.

I miss my Draco, and even as I know he is no longer in pain, at times, late at night when I am lying in our bed, alone and lonely, I would rather he be here with me, pain or not. 

No, not really. 

I do not wish that he were still suffering, but I do wish he were here with me. I know that is so very selfish of me, but where Draco is concerned, I have always been selfish. I never did get enough of him, and no matter had we lived a thousand years, it still would not have been enough. Your father, Albus, once told me that watching Draco and me together was like watching a plant breathing in carbon dioxide so it could live and then releasing it as oxygen so that life could thrive. He was fourteen at the time, and I remember being amazed at the insight my son seemed to have regarding Draco and me. He was right: Draco breathed life into me each day and I in turn made it easier for him to breathe (In his case, it was a bit more than figuratively speaking). Yes, such a metaphorical attempt to describe our lives together might seem completely barmy and bloody ridiculous, but it is true. 

Now that my air is gone, I am not sure I can go on. Only I will because my children and grandchildren have supplemented that air and are doing a lovely job at keeping my supply going. 

It is difficult for me to write this, Bella and Severus. When Scorpius and the others began to write this second book, I was excited about the prospect, yet not at all willing to provide any further information. Everything I wanted anyone to know, regarding my family and me, had been written in the first book, and my heart was heavy and broken from losing the love of my life, making the thought of writing about happier times, unbearable. That feeling will likely never cease to exist, and I cherish the idea of never getting over or never forgetting Draco Malfoy. The thought of doing either upsets me greatly. However, time has changed my thoughts regarding this book, and here I am, with my quill, explaining to my grandchildren about your wonderful grandfather Draco, and about to tell you an important story that I hope you never forget.

It is a story about the lack of perfection in all things, and it might be the most important lesson I ever teach you. If your grandfather Draco were here, he’d be even more adamant than I am about this. One of his final requests was that I share our most important lesson with you each time that I see you — that meant that he wanted me to show you by example — your grandfather was very much a believer in setting a good example. This being the case, the two of you have heard me talk about this before, but perhaps it is prudent that I put it in writing so you will never forget. 

I have read several articles over the years that seem to portray our family as perfect, which is vastly curious to me since your grandfather and my lifestyle is still frowned upon, generally speaking, that is. As with all other things, where we are concerned, however, the wizarding world seems to think of us as the exception rather than the rule, and they do not look down upon us for being what they consider most homosexuals: freaks. It frustrates me, and it upset your grandfather Draco immensely, but as there was or is nothing to be done for it, life goes on and we do the best we can to promote tolerance. 

Sorry, didn’t mean to get off on a tangent; this is not a lesson about homosexuality. It is a lesson on the perfection… or the lack thereof. If you want my thoughts on homosexuality… you’ll not get them. I do not speak about it, and I would ask that you not ask. I’ll talk about most things with anyone, but Draco and homosexuality are two things that I keep close to my heart and try not to discuss. So you must know that you two must be vastly important for me to be discussing your grandfather with you. I’ll not extend that to the other issue, however. Please respect this.

Getting back to the perfection part of this chapter: Each time I see the word perfect, especially in regards to our family, I can’t help but laugh and roll my eyes. Oh how very wrong they are. 

No one is perfect. 

This lesson is so important and meaningful because it is one your grandfather Draco and I had to learn about one another, and one that we still had to remember after years of being together. No matter how long two people love each other and live together, there are certain expectations, and when those needs are not met, it is almost always difficult to accept, but acceptance has to happen for a healthy relationship to thrive.

Draco and I love you very much and want you to have blessed, happy lives, so heed the following advice, my loves:

Families are never perfect, and neither are the individual members of said family; no matter how much love, respect, happiness there is between people, there is going to be dissention within a family… always. Our family is no different. 

When two families merge into one, it is going to present problems: I don’t care how accepting and easy-going you are. With us, this definitely was the case. I can still remember how very angry James was with me that first year. He and Lily barely spoke to me for weeks when they found out I had granted their mum the divorce she requested. It took James more than a year before he began to forgive me, and let me tell you, it was the hardest twelve months of my life. The dissention put a strain on my relationship with your grandfather Draco because I repeatedly said that what we were doing to the kids wasn’t worth it and that I was going to leave him. He didn’t understand and we had rows almost nightly for months. I loved him so very much, but I also loved my kids and had told him that they would always come first. To know that possibly I wasn’t putting them first upset me further. 

Eventually, we began to accept that things were forever changed, and after much talking and soul-searching, our situation did improve: James and I repaired our relationship, but it changed things between us, and we were never the same. I regret that we grew apart, but I am so very happy that he had his mother: Ginny is the best mother anyone could ever ask for, and I am so proud of how she handled James during that tough period. Now I am happy to say that my son and I have a wonderful relationship, perhaps even better than it would have been otherwise. 

Your Uncle James and his wife are expecting their first child in three months. Oh how I look forward to holding my grandson in my arms. I only wish Draco were going to be here to do the same; he always had such a soft spot for James, and the two of them were very close. 

I am grateful to have such wonderful children. Lily, don't think I am leaving you out, my little girl: you are my princess and always will be. No matter that you now live in the United States, much too far away for my liking, you are always the last thought I have each night. I wish for you safety and happiness... always.

Sorry about the gushing about my children: I can't help it. I'm a proud father. Okay back to the perfection and children being mad at their parents: One of the reasons I am telling you this about what went on in our family is because it is natural to act out at times — it is unrealistic to expect complete acceptance of anything that necessitates change. Also, sometimes, strife can have positive results. Don’t always assume that it is better to do what is easiest, and at the same time, don’t always assume that it is better to do what you think is right. Each moment of our lives presents us with challenges and it is up to each of us to decide how to respond. What might be right at one moment might be the wrong choice at another, and what might be easy one day might be the most difficult trial you have ever faced, the next.

One stormy night in December, many years ago, I was sitting in Draco and my bedroom with a twelve-year-old Scorpius, who had had a nightmare, and Draco walked in and told his son, in a matter-of-fact tone, that there was nothing to be scared of, and to go back to bed. I remember being so surprised and hurt: my Draco would never ever talk to his son that way. I am almost certain your grandfather Draco could see the hurt in my eyes. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave the room. I’ll never forget the look in Scorpius’s eyes: he was so frightened — he never did tell us what that dream had been about. I hugged him to me and told him that I would go stay with him in his room until he fell asleep. Draco turned his head toward me and frowned, then shook his head as he left the room. I wanted so badly to go after him and tell him exactly how childish he was being, but I didn’t, because his son looked at me and tried to smile. Then he told me something I’ll never forget. He said, his voice small and trembling, near tears, “Harry, my daddy couldn’t ever be scared when he was a little boy. His parents said it made him weak to be scared. He’ll come in my room in the morning and hug me and tell me he is sorry and that there is nothing to be afraid of because he will always be here to protect me.” 

Wow! That one comment forever changed how I looked at Draco. We never spoke of what his son had told me, and we never discussed anything regarding that night again, but then after, Draco trusted me to be a father to his children and I trusted him to be a father to my children. We both had scars from our childhoods that would forever mar the way we treated and raised our children. Many things we did were probably unfair to them, but we did the best we could, and, we both got better as time went on. That is all anyone can ask and expect. 

No one can ever expect perfectionism.

There are so many other stories I could share with you, in fact, many more that star me in the role as being what the other thought unreasonable, but as this is not the place for those stories, I’ll not add them. I chose the one story regarding Draco and Scorpius because it affected all of us so very much. As I mentioned earlier, that night was never directly alluded to again, but Draco began to tell me about his parents and how strict they had been with him. It opened my eyes. In turn, I opened up to your grandfather Draco. That was the beginning of acceptance for the both of us. Yes, as I mentioned earlier, we always struggled with the lack of perfection in the other — everyone surely does — but we at least knew what was realistic and what wasn’t.

There are reasons for everything, and if you stop to think why someone is doing or saying something, it might help shed more light on that person. It doesn’t forgive them, if they are doing something wrong, but it will help you to know the why of what they are doing. Please never forget this. I cherish the lesson Scorpius taught me that night.

In closing, I want to share two final thoughts with you, my wonderful grandchildren. They do not exactly fit in with what I titled this chapter, yet it is important and as I am writing this, I can add this! Being Harry Malfoy-Potter does count for something every now and again. 

First final thought: Never ever fail to help others who are in need. We have been given many gifts, and we have a responsibility because of that. Your grandfather Draco taught me that, and I have never forgotten. Even if we had nothing, however, it would be one of our responsibilities to help others. There are so many ways to help, and money is not necessary.

Second final thought: Writing this book is one way for all of us to teach and help you, Bella and Severus, and we hope that you will do the same with your children. Our minds are vast receptacles that never tire of new information. Draco and I spent each day we had with our children teaching them. They, in turn, taught you, and you will do the same with your children. Teaching is a twenty-four hour job that is the responsibility of everyone. You can and should allow others to help teach and impart lessons, but never ever give that responsibility to someone else to be the sole teacher.

This chapter was written with much love by your grandfather Harry. I love you, Bella and Severus, and look forward to watching the two of you continue to grow. 

Title: More than Nineteen Reasons 3  
Author: MK Malfoy  
Characters: Harry, Draco, Albus Severus, Scorpius, Ginny, Astoria, Lucius, Narcissa, etc.  
Rating: R  
Words: 1,920 (this chapter)  
Summary: Side stories to Nineteen Reasons written by a host of Harry and Draco’s family and friends that will be revealed as each chapter is posted. Each chapter will be a separate story.  
Warnings: I am sure there will be a rather large dose of angst within, and there might be a few chapters from Harry’s POV, as well as Scorpius’s and Albus’s, that have sexual content, but most of the chapters should be rather tame. Note that I said should. I make no promises, so that is why the fic overall is rated R. I have no idea how many chapters (stories) this will be, but as they are each one-shots, that shouldn’t matter.  
Disclaimer: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

A Father’s Intuition and a Godfather’s Love by Ted (Teddy to all of you) Remus Lupin

They say orphans can understand one another. Well, I don’t know who exactly they are, or even if that saying is true, but yeah, that is the way it has always been with Harry and me. From the time I was three, I can remember him playing with me, talking to me, and making sure that I was included in just about everything he did. My grandmother was overly protective and didn’t let me out of her sight much, but Harry did get me each Saturday, and I came to live for the weekend. As I got older, I saw him more and more. 

There are so many memories that I’d love to share with everyone, but I’ll write about the one that is nearest and dearest to me, and yes, it is the one about the first time I met Draco… you all know that story by now, I’m quite sure, since I talk about it all the time. Okay, Lily, you can stop rolling your eyes. You know you love the story.

It all began on a rather normal day; the weather was nice — a bit chilly — but then again, when is it anything other in Surrey? I think I must have been a bit hyper that morning when we arrived at the playpark, because I remember Harry getting on to me about being careful; he said he didn’t want to have to take me to A&E. I remember running around, swinging, acting like I was superman, and then I remember jumping off of a tree stump. Harry was not at all pleased about that. I remember thinking he was no fun and that I wanted someone fun to play with. To be fair, Harry was fun, as I found out later, but where I was concerned, he seemed entirely too serious, and that was no fun at all for someone as young as me whose only concern was playing and getting into as much mischief as possible.

Someone must have heard my wish. This person, who I soon found out was Draco Malfoy, walked over to where Harry was, and they talked. As soon as I saw him, I wanted to know who he was because he looked like me. Everyone else around me had dark hair, but this wizard, like me, had blond hair. 

When Harry introduced me to Draco, I could tell that Harry liked him. Of course, to a young child, the word like has so many meanings, and they are all so very innocent. Regardless, I knew that he and Harry were good friends, and I also knew that I wanted this Draco person to play with me every day because he was so much fun. He helped me slide, he carried me around the playpark on his back, and he bought me an ice cream.

Later that night, when Grandmother was putting me to bed, she said that Draco was a good person and that he was someone I would always be able to count on. Then she told me something that no one alive knows about. I don’t really think she was talking to me as much as she was talking to the air, but she talked to me, nonetheless. She had to know that what she said wasn’t going to mean anything much to me, after all, I was a little boy. I do remember the words she said, however, and I remember how serious she was when she said them. I’ve debated about whether or not I should even mention it now, but I’m going to. Harry, you deserve to hear this. 

My grandmother told me that a few minutes before my father died, he approached Draco and asked him whose side were his loyalties on. Draco looked at my father with a frown and shook his head and said that he hadn’t a clue, but that he wanted to be on Harry’s side, and that he didn’t wish to fight anymore, that all he wanted was for his mum and dad to be okay, and that if anything happened to his mother, he’d never forgive himself for becoming a Death Eater. Apparently, a few minutes later, my father sent a Patronus to my grandmother and told her what happened, and told her that if anything were to happen to him, he wanted Draco to be a part of my life. My grandmother, of course, protested, but my father was adamant and said he had been so very wrong about so many things and that family mattered and he wanted me to know Draco, the good and bad.

Well, obviously, at that time, my grandmother hadn’t told Draco, and that’s rather unfortunate. I’d like to think it was only an oversight on her part, but I’m not stupid. I guess she had her reasons, though.

I’m not finished with the story yet, but Harry, I am so sorry for never mentioning this to you before, but you had so much of Draco; I wanted that little bit of information for myself. Other than you, there is no one else who means more to me than Draco, and that isn’t a lie. I love my grandmother so very much and would do anything for her, and I love my wife and children more than I love myself, but still, no one will ever be able to match you or Draco. I think that is wrong, because shouldn’t I care more for my wife and children? Well, I do, really, but I think you can understand what I’m saying, Harry. 

Okay, back to the story, and again, there is another bit of information within that I have never told anyone. 

When I was nineteen, Grandmother and I were having some bloody bad times, so I moved in with Harry once Ginny moved out. I admit to thinking that I had it made — I was almost certain that I’d be able to get away with anything at Harry’s. Oh how very wrong I was. It only took me twelve hours to find out that my godfather was not at all the easygoing wizard I thought he was. He told me that would be my only warning and that the next time I disobeyed him I’d be out. I’m sure I tried to talk my way out of it, but Harry — he was having none of it. He and I had a major row and I almost walked out. That was bad — the worst, even — but that wasn’t the end of it, oh no, not by any means! The next evening, when I was sulking and hating my godfather, Draco walked in, took the quill out of my hand that I was in the process of using to write a letter, and told me to look at him and to listen. He didn’t even attempt to cover up what he was thinking or what he thought of how I had been acting. Regardless, I think I probably rolled my eyes, and I am almost positive that I said something under my breath about meddling lovers. He probably said something back to me; I don’t remember. What I do remember is that he proceeded to tell me that my grandmother had written him and told him what my father had said to her. She had also apologized for not acknowledging it and for not letting Draco be a part of my life as my father had wished. 

Well, it was a good story and all, but I still didn’t get why he was telling me. I sort of shrugged my shoulders, and Draco’s face seemed to morph in front of my eyes. His face turned redder than it had been and he stood and walked toward the door but then he stopped and turned toward me and said, “Teddy, I was a bloody Death Eater. Your father, because of only a few words said by me, deemed me acceptable to have in your life. He had to have been going against everything he had to have believed in. Do you know what a special person it takes to do that? Do you? Your father died a few minutes after we talked. I watched as he was killed. I have never told Harry that, and I won’t (so sorry you are finding out this way, Harry, but I really wanted to tell the complete story and there was no way around this bit), but yeah. I saw him die. Do you know what it does to a person to watch another die? I had never spared a good thought for your father, but when he died, I remember wishing it had been me instead. Your father was an amazing person with an indefatigable ability to love and forgive. You are his son and I will NOT allow you to talk to your godfather or your grandmother the way you have been. I am speaking as someone who cares very much for you, but I am also speaking as your cousin. We are a proud lot, the Blacks and Malfoys, and I am sure the Lupins are as well. You should stop moping and feeling sorry for yourself and thank your lucky stars that you have so many wonderful people in your life. No, your mother and father are not ever coming back, just as Harry’s aren’t. Believe me, he has his moments as well, as he should. I wish the both of you had parents, Teddy. I wish with everything I had that I could wave my wand and they would be here. Truly, that is my wish. But, love, it isn’t going to happen. I’m so very sorry that they aren’t here for you. But, Harry IS here for you, and if you push him away, I fear what it will do to the both of you.”

Draco then walked out and I didn’t see him again for weeks. I sat at my desk for hours, staring at the door, wondering what in the bloody hell I was supposed to do. I was so angry at everyone. Why did I have to grow up without parents? Well, I went to bed angry that night, and continued my surly ways for a few more days. It took me a few more rows with Harry to fully get it, but when I did, and realized what a complete arse I had been, I went straight to Harry and apologized. I can remember that moment so vividly in my mind: Harry was sitting outside talking to Lily, and I slowly approached them. Lily stuck her tongue out at me (You know you liked having me around since James and Al were at Hogwarts), but Harry motioned for me to join them. I sat in the middle, put an arm around the both of them, and looked at Harry. He grinned and nodded, and that was it. After that day, we had no more rows and I changed my attitude. 

Had it not been for Harry and Draco, I really have no clue where I’d be today; perhaps I’d be dead, or working on getting there. As for me not having my parents with me, like Draco said… well… I did, in a way: Harry is my godfather and Draco was as well, if only figuratively. They loved me as much as any parents and they certainly parented me more than anyone else. I owe them everything.

Thank you, Harry, and thank you, Draco (I know you can see this).

Love always, your Teddy

 

Title: More than Nineteen Reasons 4  
Author: MK Malfoy  
Characters: Harry, Draco, Albus Severus, Scorpius, Ginny, Astoria, Lucius, Narcissa, etc.  
Rating: R  
Words: 1,740 (this chapter)  
Summary: Side stories to Nineteen Reasons written by a host of Harry and Draco’s family and friends that will be revealed as each chapter is posted. Each chapter will be a separate story.  
Warnings: I am sure there will be a rather large dose of angst within, and there might be a few chapters from Harry’s POV, as well as Scorpius’s and Albus’s, that have sexual content, but most of the chapters should be rather tame. Note that I said should. I make no promises, so that is why the fic overall is rated R. I have no idea how many chapters (stories) this will be, but as they are each one-shots, that shouldn’t matter.  
Disclaimer: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

Words of Wisdom by a Wise Witch by James Sirius Potter

Mum and Dad did their best to hide their marital woes from Lily, Al, and me, but we knew there were problems, and I had an idea that my dad was seeing someone else. I don’t think I’m ready to reveal how I found out that ghastly bit of information, and I probably never will, but that isn’t important to the story I have to tell. When I found out, though, of course, I was furious. My dad had Mum. Why did he need someone else? And why in the hell did it have to be a bloke? When I found out that sordid detail, I was furious! How could my dad have done that to me, Al, and Lily. And Mum! Not that there is anything wrong with blokes liking blokes, but well, it just isn’t accepted… is it? I didn’t want people to tease me about it. They didn’t, at least not to my face, but I heard the whispers. 

Dad and I barely spoke for eleven months. I was so mad. Mum wanted me to forgive him, and she tried to make me understand… but there was nothing for me to understand. My dad — my hero — he had left my mother for a bloke. There was nothing that could ever make that forgivable in my mind. 

September of my third year, I came down with some rare disease that I can’t even remember the name of. I was in hospital wing for two weeks. My mum came to see me each day, and my dad tried to come see me, but I told everyone that I didn’t wish to see him. I know she hated doing so, but Madam Pomfrey asked my dad not to come see me. Yes, I knew how unfair I was being, but he had been unfair as well. 

As I began to improve, Professor Binns (not the same one who taught my dad. This one is a witch… a really pretty one at that.) and I would sit out in the gardens and talk. She seemed to be the only person who could get me to talk. I didn’t know it, but she was acting as a therapist, and she set me up! 

You see, one day she Flooed me and said she was ill and would be unable to take me out. In her place was this older witch, but she was still pretty. Her name was Astoria... yes, THAT Astoria, but I had no idea at the time what her connection to my father was. We talked for a long time about Quidditch, and we played Exploding Snap. Then she told me a story. She never told me who she was, but after the story, I knew. After she finished, she stood, smiled, then turned and left. I didn’t see her again until Draco was in hospital a few years later. 

We thought he was going to die. I remember standing by his bedside, begging him not to leave my dad. Astoria came up behind me, put her arms around me, and whispered in my ear that it was going to be okay. I think I was sixteen or seventeen, but I remember crying as hard as I had when I was a boy. I couldn’t stand the thought of Draco not being alive. Astoria led me outside, sat me down, knelt in front of me, and smiled. She told me how proud she was of me; how much I had grown in the three years since she had seen me. She also said that Draco and my dad were so very proud of me. When I walked back into the room, Draco was awake. I remember walking over to his bed and worrying about touching him because I was afraid of hurting him. He reached out his hand toward me and tried to smile. “Hey, My Kid,” he said, his voice soft and raspy, “don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere quite yet.” I grinned and looked over at Scorpius. You see, my dad — he called Scorpius… well he still does — my kid. And Draco called me the same. I was always curious why he didn’t call Al the same, and it kind of made me sad, because I thought he was somehow giving me preferential treatment, but then I later found out that Albus Severus was, at least in part, a name that Draco had wished for a son, so then I knew he would never call Al anything other. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to find that out. I act real tough, like I don’t care, but don’t you dare mess with my sister or brother. 

Story? You want the story? Gah, I really don’t want to go into it; it is far too personal, and I… well, okay, Astoria says it is okay for me to tell it, so I will. I am crap at telling stories, as you can readily tell by this essay, but here goes. Her words, as best I can recall:

“James, I’ll never forget what the Sorting Hat said to me as it was placed on my head. It said, “Miss Greengrass. An older sister, in Slytherin, eh? But you, you seem to be of the docile type — not one to be in the midst of turmoil. Might you be Hufflepuff material?” Well, I was mortified. No one of my breeding would be caught dead in Hufflepuff, and I said as much to the hat! Then the hat told me something I have never forgotten: “Each of us has some Hufflepuff in us, just as each of us has elements of the other three houses in us. Did you know that Salazar Slytherin was, at heart, a Hufflepuff? He only did the things that he eventually did, to get back at the others for teasing him as they had. We each have good in us, and we each have bad in us. It is up to each of us to use what we are given. We will always make mistakes — it is a part of being human. But we must never hold those mistakes against those we love after they have paid the consequences of what they have done wrong.”

I was confused because it seemed as though the hat had gone off tangent. I asked which house I was going to be placed in, and it said: "Where do you want to be?” I told it Slytherin. It then told me that my dad would be proud of me, and then shouted out, “Slytherin.” You see, my dad had died the previous year, and I hadn’t talked to him since I was five. My mother and him divorced when I was two, and my mother wouldn’t allow me to see my father. So to hear the hat say that, it made me sad, yet happy. I had been so furious with my father, because he left my mother and married someone else. But when the hat told me that about my father being proud of me, at that moment, I forgave him. It’s sort of sad now. You see, my husband, he did the same thing with me. He left me for someone else, but there is a big difference. He and I both see our son every chance we get, and we never let a day go by without telling him that we love him and that we will always be there for him. So, even though it is difficult, we make it work. Things are not always going to be perfect, but we can make it as pleasant as possible, eh? Every child wants to hear that they are loved, and every parent wants to hear that their children love them. Think about that, James.”

I waited a day, then I Flooed my dad and apologized. It took a bit longer for us to get to a point where I was comfortable around him, but at least we were talking. The first thing I told him was that I loved him. I’ve never seen my dad speechless, but he was at that moment. He hugged me, and I could tell he was crying. Then I told him that if Draco made him happy, then I was happy for him. Now let me tell you… that was the most difficult thing I had done to that point, because it was giving him permission to be with someone other than my mother, but as Astoria had told me, or as the hat had told her, none of us are perfect. I still loathed Draco Malfoy at that point, but over the next year, I came to love him every bit as much as my own parents, and I miss him so much now. So much that it hurts. When I was down, he always knew how to make me smile. I wasn’t like Al; I didn’t like to talk about what was bothering me, and no one could coax it out of me easily. But Draco, he had his ways, and he always got me to talk… always! I miss those times. 

There are a few other stories that I might want to tell later, but for now, I don’t think I want to. But what I do want to do is to tell anyone out there who might be going through a rough time, you will get through it, or you won’t. I won’t sugarcoat is as they say. But know that there are people out there who are cheering for you to come through your trials. I was about at the end of my rope when a tiny witch decided that she would help me, and I am so grateful that she did.

Astoria, you likely saved my life, and yes, I know you will sigh and say that I am being far too dramatic. Possibly so — we Potters are quite the dramatists aren’t we? But seriously, I owe you and Draco more than I could ever repay. My father has to be the luckiest wizard alive to have met and fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. Isn’t it a strange world we live in that I can say that to Draco’s former wife? 

I love you, Astoria. Everyone else knows I love them, including Draco, but I want you to know that I also love you.


End file.
